Stable
by BarricadeBoy221B
Summary: The continuation to 'Attack' - in which Harvey and Mike talk - or rather, don't talk - about what happened, as well as come to terms with the side effects of a bad head injury. Very light Marvey, more fluff than anything, and even then it's like..barely there.
1. Stable

Once Mike was stable enough to be moved, he was transferred upstairs to have the necessary scans and X-Ray's while Harvey waited in the room Mike had been given. It was spacious, clean, and generally bland. A vase containing a bunch of fake flowers, all varying shades of pink and orange was the only source of colour in the room. As he waited for Mike to be brought back, Harvey shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it carelessly across the back of one of the chairs nearest the window as he approached the glass, the view as he looked down expansive and busy as always. 'The city that never sleeps'…it was true enough. There was never a quiet moment here; only now that he was stood in a hospital room instead of his home or his office did Harvey come to dislike that thought. The sky scrapers and high-rises that usually stood for accomplishment and ambition now only served to help hide the person that had put Mike in here in the first place. He didn't know if Mike was in some kind of trouble, maybe something to do with Trevor – or if this had just been a really bad case of 'wrong place wrong time', but Harvey thoroughly intended to find whoever was responsible. By the time he'd be finished with them the coroner would have a hard time identifying the remains as human.

By the time Mike was wheeled back into the room, it was nearly midnight. Harvey was still by the window, though he was pulled out of his thoughts when the door opened across the room. The nurse hadn't even gotten Mike to the bed before she was being barraged with questions; was he alright, what was the prognosis, would he still need surgery-

"Harvey, come on…give her a break, she just brought me here." Mike sounded tired, but certainly more coherent than before. As he cautiously lay himself back, the nurse made sure his notes were updated, and asked if either needed anything before excusing herself, the door closing softly behind her. Now that they were in better lighting, Harvey could see up close just how awful Mike looked. The blood had been cleaned away, a large white bandage and steri-strips adorned his head and face like stickers in a childs play book. One of his eyes was almost completely swollen shut, and he had a feeling the black eye that would come with it would be hard to forget. The same could be said for the deep split in his bottom lip – eating would be a spectacle in the morning…  
At first, the monotonous bleep of the heart rate monitor to Mikes left was the only sound in the room, though after a minute it got a little too awkward for the black and blue associate.

"So…are you gonna say anything? Or even sit down?"

"What do you want me to say?" It was an ambiguous question, and not one Mike was sure he could really answer properly; his head was swimming with fatigue and the same ache from before, numbed down with painkillers. As Harvey pulled a chair over to the bedside, he shifted a little under the layers of blanket, though the general condition of his body meant most movement hurt like a bitch.

"I don't know…ask me about the case, or what I found out about-"

"You really think I give a damn about the case right now?" Another ambiguous question, and at first Mike considered pretending to sleep to put off this conversation. He'd hoped Harvey would just try and take his mind off the whole evening with something work related. Like he had when his grandmother had died. But it was obvious he wasn't going to let up, and that suddenly the lights illuminating the room were suddenly far too similar to interrogation lamps.

"Yeah, or at least, you should – we're close to getting them to settle, and we need this. You need –"

"What I need is for you to get better. I need you to stop thinking about Whitehall for 2 seconds and let me handle the rest of the case alone" Harvey just raised a hand, stopping the first wave of protest for the moment.

"Like you said. We're close to them settling; I happen to be pretty good at getting what I want and alongside getting Whitehall closed, I want you to trust me."

"I've always trusted you"

"I know. Which is why, when I find the guy who did this to you, you'll be the first to know – and I don't want to hear, no, I don't want to hear it" Each time Mike tried to interject Harvey cut him off, much to his frustration. Examining the monitor attached to his finger, Mike sighed softly, wincing a little at the dull pain in his chest. He wet his lips, hesitating before speaking again.

"It's pointless, you'd never find them-"

"'Them'?" Ah crap.

"Look, Harvey-"

"How many was it? Mike, talk me" It was another question he considered ignoring, but when he next glanced up at Harvey and saw nothing but concern, Mike felt worse for his boss than he did himself, for a moment at least. Feeling backed into a corner, eventually he caved.

"Two. Two guys. But look, Harvey – there were no camera's down that street. I checked"

"You found time to check for CCTV whilst being beaten half to death?"

"No - I looked before they brought out the armoury…" Harvey brought a hand up, placing it gently on the wrist that wasn't bound in a soft cast.

"I'm serious, Mike. We'll find something; I'll make sure this doesn't go unnoticed. I'm gonna find them, Hell, I'll do it myself if I have to-"

"Jesus, just – drop it, will you?" Almost obediently, Harvey stopped, looking at Mike as though looking for an explanation. With a short sigh, Mike rested his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes briefly before speaking.

"I don't want to talk about it. Not right now, not for a while" Finally he looked back at his boss – the boss who still had his hand clamped almost protectively on his arm – and added;

"You need me to get better, and I need distractions. I need to keep working, keep my mind busy. I can still be useful to the client. To you."

"I never called that into question"

"But you did immediately assume that because I'm here I wouldn't be working. But guess what, I have nothing else to do now. I know you're looking out for me, but if I don't work I'll probably die from boredom" Seeing that Harvey still looked sceptical, Mike smiled as best he could.

"Let's get this closed, and then you can worry about me." After a minute or two of what Mike could only call inner turmoil, finally Harvey gave a curt nod of agreement, making Mikes smile widen a little as he let his head rest back again, though this time he didn't manage to keep from succumbing to the fatigue that pulled at his injured body and weighed down his eyelids. Once he was sure he was sleeping, Harvey got up from his seat, unbuttoning his shirt a little as his tie joined his jacket across the second chair. Once the lights were out, he reclaimed his place by the bedside, slouching back in his chair in an attempt to catch some shut eye himself. By the time he woke up, he'd have a lot of explaining to do to Jessica. She could either be lenient with him, or she could give him a slap on the wrist and take the case herself. Either way, Harvey fully intended to get accustomed to sleeping in this room for the next week or so.


	2. Wait, what?

The next morning Harvey was the first one to wake up, his neck sore and one of his arms almost completely dead. As he sat up, he soon realized that he wasn't in the same position he'd been in the night before. While he'd fallen asleep in his chair, during the night he'd moved forward, using a folded arm as a pillow, and Mikes arm as…well, he wasn't sure. But as he gently detached his hand from the pale, bruised skin, it was apparent from how stiff his fingers felt that he'd been that way for quite some time. Moving his head and gingerly rubbing his neck, he saw that Mike was still fast asleep, body twisted towards him, arm forced into a slightly awkward angle to accommodate Harvey's grasp on his wrist. As he pushed to his feet, he pulled the blankets up a little further before silently finding his wallet and phone and leaving the room. It wasn't even 8am, but he knew the sooner he could let Jessica know what had happened and the plan from here on out, the better. Not that that would make her more likely to approve his change of course, but it'd tick one more thing off his to-do list at the very least.

After a lot of reassurances, eventually the phone was being slipped back into his pocket, and Harvey was on his way back to Mikes room, coffee in hand and familiar feeling of personal triumph apparent in his gait. When he finally got back, he saw that Mike was just waking up, trying his hardest to shy away from the morning light filtering through the half-shut blinds. With a smirk, Harvey shut the door, and approached the bedside.

"Morning, sunshine" When he only got a groan in response, Harvey took a seat on the edge of the bed, nudging Mike's arm with the coffee cup. After a moment and with a bit of effort, Mike managed to sit himself up, face scrunching up in severe discomfort. He'd been right; overnight Mike's face had become a canvas of crimson and purple bruising – the story was the same on his knuckles and up his arm. With another nudge, Harvey handed him the coffee, his expression softer than usual.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like someone kicked my ass"

"Pretty fair conclusion." After promptly burning his tongue, Mike feigned indifference as he pushed the cup onto the side table for the time being.

"Still doesn't feel real – I mean, I know what happened, but it doesn't feel like it was me back there"

"Having your ass handed to you doesn't feel real to you?" For that Harvey earned a light clap to the arm.

"I'm serious – it all just feels like a bad dream or something"

"Well, feel free to wake up anytime – we've got work to do. I spoke to Jessica, and she said as long as Whitehall is closed by the end of tomorrow, you can be off the hook until you're out of here-"

"Wait, what?"

"What's the matter?"

Mike frowned, as though trying to recall a name. Narrowing his eyes, Harvey tried again.

"What is it?"

"I, um…Whitehall?"

"Yes..?"

"…What are they? What is it?"


	3. White noise

For a second or two, Harvey's first thought was that Mike was joking. But every moment that the confused, slightly panicked look on his face didn't fade was a moment closer to Harvey realizing he was in fact being serious.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No – no, I'm not."

"You have to be – you were fine last night."

"I haven't been 'fine' since- well, this" He gestured vaguely to his face and cast.

"You know what I mean" The reply was accompanied by a dismissive wave of the hand as Harvey got to his feet, pushing one hand onto his hip as the other rubbed at the back of his neck. Turning back to Mike, he decided to nip this worrying new theory in the bud.

"Where do you work?" Mike stayed quiet, just looking at Harvey like a child being told to do something out of its understanding. His boss just repeated himself, focusing on Mike as the question registered again.

"Answer me." After a long pause, Mike had to look away, and a moment later, just gave Harvey a helpless shrug.

"…I have no idea"

"Who do you work for?"

"…You?" The fact that it sounded like a guess offered little comfort. Alarm bells were deafening in Harvey's mind.

"What did I ask you to research last night, before you were jumped?" Mike went to answer, mouth open, but it was empty of words.

"…The client?"

"Yes, but what about them? I asked you to look into something specific, what was it?"

"…I don't know"

"Yes, you do – come on Mike, think"

"I am"

"And?"

"I-I don't know – I don't know, just…stop looking at me like that"

The look Mike was referring to was one of genuine concern and a grave seriousness. Coming back to the bed, Harvey took his original place back, hands out in a mediating gesture.

"Okay, let's try something else. How do I take my coffee?"

"I don't even know how I take _my _coffee"

"What's Rachel's last name?"

"..I don't know – I don't even know who that is…I mean, I do – I can picture her, but it's cloudy…" Another question came to Harvey, though as much as he wanted to ask it, he wasn't sure he was ready for the predicted answer.

"What's my name?" Finally, Mike looked at the older man, wide, bruised eyes searching Harvey's face as though the answer would just appear across his forehead. But, nothing came to him. It was just white noise inside his head. He knew the answer –of course he did, he worked for the guy – but the fact that all that was coming out of his mouth were quick, anxious breaths didn't do anything to settle the panic rising in his chest.

"…I, um…I-I don't…I don't know, it's…No, I do, I do know it…_shit_…"

"It's okay, it's alright. Don't worry about it" A short, dry laugh forced its way out of Mike's throat, expression suspended in disbelief.

"Great, okay, well how about you forget the names of everyone you know and pretty much  
everything you need for your job, and we'll see how easy it is for you to stop-"

"Alright, okay, calm down."  
"'Calm down' – classic…" There were tears pricking at the corners of Mikes eyes which he was trying to keep from showing themselves. Names were bad enough, but the more he tried to think of anything Law-related, absolutely anything…well, absolutely nothing came up. Just, white noise. Seeing how upset he was getting, Harvey reached a hand up behind Mike's neck, and gently pulled him forward a little, their foreheads bumping together. His other hand found Mike's just as easily, though as soon as their fingers entwined Mike squeezed as though he never meant to let go. Harvey could only place a tiny kiss to his forehead, before replacing his own in its stead.

"You're going to be fine, Mike. You'll get through this, and I'll be right here with you."


	4. Irreplaceable

As the hours became days, it quickly became apparent that Mike's memory wasn't going to improve any time soon. Harvey posed more questions to him, but each one was met with variations of the same answer. He brought in old case files, anything that might jog Mike's memory. But eventually, Mike stopped trying to recall anything, his frustration starting to show through the cracks.

"Harvey, just drop it…It's probably permanent, no point in wasting your breath"

"I'm not wasting anything – and it's the 'probably' that has me worried. Hence, the old cases-"

"Why're you bothering?" Harvey stopped pacing for a moment, and turned round towards the bed. Mike was looking out of the window, despondent eyes not really focusing on anything .

"What kind of question is that? I want you to get better, to start remembering again"

"Yeah, and I asked why" Frowning, Harvey went to the bedside, sinking slowly onto the bed. Mike didn't bother facing him at first – it was only when he felt a hand rubbing his arm softly that he eventually turned to him.

"If my memory's shot, then I can't work for you anymore. You might as well start looking for my replacement…"

"This isn't permanent, Mike. You'll get over this, and you'll be back at your cubicle working for me in no time." Mike didn't look convinced, but he didn't say anything else for a few minutes, instead just watched as Harvey collected some of the loose papers that littered the bed.

"I'm only useful to you for my memory. If it doesn't come back-"

"Mike, stop it"

"_If it doesn't come back, _what'll happen then? I mean, there's no way you'll be able to keep me on as your associate. I'll be useless to you-"

"I said stop." Returning to his side, Harvey sat down, closer to Mike this time, his hand clasped to the side of his neck gently but firmly, forcing Mike to look at him.

"Your memory isn't the only thing you're good for, and don't ever think you can be replaced so easily." Mike shot him a defensive look.

"But it wouldn't be impossible"

"Yeah, it would actually. You're irreplaceable to me, Mike"

"But not to the firm." In a rarely seen moment, Harvey was at a loss of what to say. Looking to the side, Mike added quietly;

"You know it's true, Harvey. You've gotta consider what'll happen if-"

"I don't have to do anything. You're going to be fine, you're just jumping to the worst possible conclusion"

"Can you blame me..? I'd probably agree with you a week ago, but it's been that long and still nothing."

"You have to give it time"

"How much? A month? Two, three?" Sighing in frustration, Harvey pulled his hand away as he got to his feet, approaching the window and pushing his hands into his pockets loosely. A small part of Mike felt bad, but in all honesty he was scared. He was terrified that he'd be stuck like this and he'd lose his job and, in turn, Harvey as well. Although he hadn't worked as hard as others to get to where he was, the life he'd become accustomed to was a hairs breadth away from falling apart, and just thinking about that possibility forced Mike to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths. He hated being stuck in this damned hospital, hated only being able to remember past events clearly and having everything else foggy and disjointed. Hated keeping Harvey from his work, although he'd been the one to insist on staying here with him. It seemed like hours of quiet between them before Mike tentatively tried speaking again.

"Harvey..?"

"Mmm"

"I'm sorry, I just…" Palms turned up, Mike tried to string a decent sentence together as Harvey waited, watching patiently as Mike continued.

"…I'm scared, and…I don't know, I'm having a hard time thinking positively right now when the only useful set of numbers I can remember is my birthday" That made Harvey smirk a little, though this time when he went and sat down, and slipped his hand into Mikes, the younger man didn't discourage him.

"You consider your birthday useful..?" Glancing up, Mike couldn't help but smile a little in return.

"You know what I mean…" Giving his hand a squeeze, Harvey's expression became a little more sincere.

"I know you're worried – but there's nothing we can do but wait. So what if it's a few more days, or a week or two? You'll get your memory back. You have to believe that"

"Harvey Specter, lecturing someone on 'believing' – what's next? You're caught hugging a client?"


	5. Next of kin

After that, Mike seemed to cheer up, albeit slowly, and it wasn't long at all before his room began to resemble an office with a bed. The small table in the corner was soon buried beneath papers and folders, one of the chairs drowned in spare suits. By now the nurses were used to coming in and seeing the two men wrapped up in their work, though it did come as a surprise one day when a different doctor came in to check on him, and found them both on the bed, Harvey's arm draped lazily around Mikes shoulder and the associate slotted into the crook of his boss' body as though they were the last jigsaw pieces in a puzzle.

They were both discussing something from a thick file, random sheets of paper scattered over their laps in some sort of chaotic order. With a short throat clearing to announce himself, the doctor returned Mike's smile, although a little curtly, as he went about checking his notes. Leaning slightly closer to Harvey, Mike muttered something, causing an amused smirk to spread across the lawyers face moments later. Though it was diluted a second later when Mike was addressed, his doctor taking a seat on the other side of the bed, his clipboard in hand.

"Sorry to…interrupt, gentlemen" Picking up on his tone, the two immediately swapped glances with suppressed smiles as Mike forced himself to pay attention. Unruffled, he continued, scanning over the most recent page in the notes in front of him.

"It says here, Mr Ross, that you've been suffering headaches over the past day or two"

"Yeah, yeah, it's um – kind of around here" Mike gestured to the right side of his head toward the back. "It comes and goes, but it's worse at night-" A low noise of acknowledgement was the only indication that he'd even heard what Mike was saying. With another glance at Mike, Harvey spoke up, his tone more serious this time, authoritive as usual.

"Is there anything we should be concerned about?" As he finished his sentence, the doctor lifted his head, his pen paused on the last word of the line.

"No. I don't expect so. Everything seems to be fine – it says here your wrist is healing nicely"

"Yeah, it feels much-"

"I'll be in again tomorrow, see how you're doing then" It didn't sound nearly as comforting as he hopefully meant it to, and as he got to his feet and headed for the door, Harvey watched him go, expression suspicious. As the door clicked shut, he gave Mikes shoulder a quick squeeze, before getting up from the bed and following after the aging man.

"Harvey, where're you-"

"I'll be back in a minute"

"But why are you…" When the door closed for the second time, Mike just sighed to himself. "…going after him."

It didn't take long for Harvey to catch the doctor, who both didn't seem surprised that he'd been followed and yet none too happy that he had been. He looked down at Harvey through condescending grey eyes, lips pressed into the firm line of someone who's been a professional one decade too long and have long since banished the word 'leisure' to the dictionary.

"Was there something you needed, Mr Specter?"

"Yes – I want answers, and I want them now."

"Well we can't always get what we want, now can we? I'm sorry, but I'm aware of what you're about to ask, and I'm afraid I can't tell you anything" Bringing his voice down a tad, Harvey didn't lose eye contact for a second as he shot back;

"That's bullshit and you know it – there's something you're not telling him."

"Nothing concrete as of yet – or would you rather I made him sit there worrying for longer than was necessary?"

"What are you hiding from him? Keeping him in the dark-"

"Is the best solution until the results of this afternoon's scan come back to us. When he's had that, then I will divulge any new information I have to him"

"Quit skirting round the issue here – I don't give a crap about what you're going to tell or not tell him later, because I'll be there with him. What I care about right now is the fact you're holding back information that he has every right to know"

"But, you don't." Harvey's eyes narrowed, lip twitching into a momentary snarl.

"I've been here for the past week and half, day and night. He has no other family, I'm his only-"

"Yes, so you said when he was first brought in. But that doesn't change the fact that you're not listed as his next of kin. You could be surgically attached to his hip and it wouldn't make me any more likely to update you before the patient himself."

"His name is Mike"

"And I have other patients – I will see Mr Ross at three for his MRI" Before he could think of anything clever and sharp to retort, the doctor was back on his way down the hallway, leaving the lawyer frustrated and angry. When he got back to Mikes room, he couldn't help but let the door slam behind him, immediately making Mike think the worst.

"…What happened? What did he say?"

"Nothing."

"Harvey-"

"Nothing, he said nothing. He wouldn't tell me anything."

"Was it because you're not family?"

"Yeah…why wouldn't you have me as your emergency contact, Mike? I would have thought I'd be the obvious choice" Mike just shrugged.

"I don't know…I guess it'd be a strange thing to ask at the office, and you're…well, you" With a frown, Harvey looked over.

"Excuse me?" Blue eyes widened slightly when he realized how what he just said sounded.

"No, I just meant – you're busy. Like, all the time. I know you'd want to know if I was sent in here…"

"You're damn right I'd want to know! I'd be here in a minute if I got the call, you know that don't you?"

"We've been living together for the past two weeks. I'm guessing if you didn't want to be here, your spare suits wouldn't be on the chair over there"

"I'm serious, Mike"

"So am I. I just…I know I've been a pain in the ass to you, and I wouldn't want you to have to come rescue me from the big bad emergency room unless the situation really called for it. And I know what hospitals are like; they get the next of kin to come in if you so much as cough outta tune…" Shaking his head, after a moment Harvey let himself smile a little, Mike mirroring the expression across the room. As he was joined on the bed once again, a small, pained noise escaped him as a jolt of pain suddenly crackled through one side of Mikes head. As always, there was a brief intermission before the same thing happened again, a little worse this time. Holding a hand gingerly to his head, Mike just leaned into Harvey again, eye shutting in an attempt to block out the pain as Harvey's hand found his, entwining this fingers with Mikes against his scalp.


	6. Headaches

This time, the headache didn't let up for a good hour – much longer than usual. At first they tried carrying on with work to take his mind off of it, but it soon got to the point where even talking at normal volume was uncomfortable for him. So they sat quietly, Harvey reviewing notes, or updates on his latest client, Mike nestled against him, trying to sleep and failing miserably. There was still some time until he was due for his MRI, but Harvey was close to insisting they fit him in sooner; something was wrong, and having the two of them knowing nothing while this new doctor sat up on his pedestal pissed Harvey off beyond belief. But, of course, he had his ways of getting what he wanted. Leaning down an inch or so, he placed a kiss into Mikes hair, so softly it was barely registered, and when he spoke he was mindful to keep his voice just above a whisper.

"You should do it. I want you to." Though he couldn't see his face, Mike frowning lightly.

"Could you be more specific..?"

"Put me down as your contact."

"Harvey, we've already talked about this…"

"No, you said some things and I'm electing to ignore them." Letting his hand drop back to Mikes shoulder, he rested his chin carefully on top of his head, rubbing small shapes into his skin with his fingertips. "I don't like the thought of you not having anyone with you. If this had been worse, or if I hadn't found you…"

"Harvey…"

"You calling me if you get brought into hospital isn't you being a pain in the ass. So stop being so damn difficult and list me already." Smirking to himself, Mike felt around for Harvey's free hand, taking it in his tentatively. His knuckles were healing over well, the bruising that danced its way around his wrist and up his forearm now just faded stains.

"Can I take that as a yes?"

"I'm thinking I don't have a lot of choice anymore"

"And you'd be right" He laughed softly, despite the ache that seemed to have spread from the back of his head to his temples. Sitting up a little, he pulled his hand free and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes, hoping it was just the lack of sleep that was making the pain worse.

"Okay, alright…"

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine – sorry, it's just really started to hurt again" Harvey closed the file, and pushed it to the side as he removed his arm from Mikes shoulders and got up from the bed, although this wasn't met without protest. He left Mike a moment later, alone with reassurances. The ICU was pretty quiet, which hopefully meant he would find someone to help him with ease. What he found was both better than he expected, and worse. Mike's doctor was on the phone at the nurse's station, nodding occasionally and jotting down a note here and there. Had it been anyone else, Harvey would have waited for him to finish, given him his space. This time, however, he made his presence known immediately, much to the taller mans disdain.

"I need to talk to you"

"Hold on a moment –Mr Specter, I'm in the middle of call. I'm sure whatever it is can wait" That was fair enough. Maybe Harvey was being a little childish. And maybe, had the doctor not then turned his back on him and continued talking, Harvey wouldn't have leant over the counter, and hung up the call. His smirk was met instantly with an angry scowl as the doctor spun back round, straightening up to his full height.

"That was a important-"

"And so is this."

"I don't know who you think you are, but in this hospital-"

"Yeah, you know what, that argument isn't gonna cut it – so far, 'in this hospital' means keeping information from patients and treating their loved ones like they're idiots."

"Perhaps if their loved ones were a little more respectful of hospital staff and procedures, they would be given more leeway. But as it stands, Mr Specter, all you have done is interrogate anyone who steps foot into Mr Ross' room, and make a sad attempt to bully me into providing you with information you have no right to. There is still another forty five minutes before your 'friend' is due for more tests." The inflexion in his tone only darkened Harvey's expression. Noticing this, the doctor continued, his tone professional, yet laced with sarcasm.

"Until then, I suggest you go back to that room and stay there. Keep him company. After all, you've been doing such a solid job so far"

"You can take that shit-eating attitude and shove it up your ass. As of this afternoon, Mike's asked for me to be listed as his next of kin, so as far as withholding things from me goes, that's out the window. Secondly, he needs to go for a scan sooner."

"Does he now?"

"The pain in his head is getting worse; something's wrong, he needs-"

"I'll be with him as soon as I can to check him over."

"No, you'll come back with me right now and do it"

"Mr Specter, I have let you stay here all this time as an act of kindness. Mr Ross isn't fond of hospitals, is he? I can see how having you here has helped him. But may I remind you that you can be removed from the premises at any time, with or without help from security. Now, I have to retrieve the call you interrupted, but I will be there as soon as I'm finished." The amount of effort it was taking Harvey to not completely tear this man a new one was worthy of an Oscar. Or a round of applause at the very least. Instead, he took a breath, and tried one last time;

"He needs help now. Surely you can just call back later, he's your responsibility"

"Yes, as are several other patients in this hospital. Mr Ross may be the centre of your universe, Mr Specter, but I can't afford to put him at the centre of mine."


	7. Seizure

"Alright, I don't know what you're Goddamn problem is-" A loud, rapid bleeping sound from the pager hitched to the doctors belt cut Harvey short. As he read it, the other man seemed to shed the cold, sarcastic demeanour briefly as he gestured back the way Harvey had come.

"Follow me." And in that moment, Harvey's heart dropped into his stomach, his feet too heavy to let him go back to the room. He soon snapped out of it, though when he got there and saw how many people were in there already, fear lurched in his chest, threatening to punch straight through his ribs. There was no way he could get close to the bed when he went in – all he could do was stand to the side and watched as Mikes seizing body was held down. Even as the heart rate monitor was going off the rails, all Harvey could think of was himself, or rather, how he hadn't been here. He'd barely been gone ten minutes, and Mike had seemed fine – well, there was the headache, but he'd been having them for days, and nothing like this had happened. He made himself watch as Mike was given something, his flailing limbs gradually calming down, and eventually falling limp at his sides. On the doctors word, he was wheeled out of the room and towards the lifts, Harvey in hot pursuit behind them.

Catching up to him, Harvey grasped at the metal bars at the sides of the bed, noting how ill Mike suddenly looked. He was on his side, eyes clamped shut and breathing shallow. Once inside the elevator, Harvey manoeuvred himself so that he was in front of his partner, hand finding his through the bars.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked, looking away only briefly.

"It's likely an aneurysm o f some kind. Often they occur within a few days of some kind of blunt force trauma, such as in this case. If I'm right, we're lucky he wasn't completely asymptomatic. " Had it been a less urgent situation, Harvey may have found the energy to call the doctor out on finally cooperating. Instead, he just rubbed his thumb across Mike's fingers, not feeling any kind of response at the contact.

"What is that, what does that mean?"

"It means he'll need surgery, as soon as possible, ideally." Harvey couldn't look up again after that, instead he just squeezed Mikes hand that little bit harder. He didn't know how aware Mike was at that point, but after having the point reiterated to him that he didn't like hospitals, Harvey was adamant to put him at ease as much as possible. In a way he hoped he was totally out of it; at least then he'd get some kind of reprieve. As the elevator doors opened again, Harvey's arm was gently but firmly pulled away from the bars, Mikes hand falling against the pillow like that of a rag doll as he was taken along the hallway towards the MRI room.

Mike didn't really recall much. Harvey had left him, saying he was going to talk to his doctor. He'd tried sleeping again, but the pain got so much worse seemingly within a minute and then it was like he'd been knocked out. When he came around, his head felt foggy and slow, his vision blurred and offering him not much other than shapes and colours and lights that were uncomfortably bright. Maybe he'd just blacked out, or the nurse had given him painkillers – it was when he tried bringing his good hand up to rub his eyes, and finding that he couldn't move properly, that he started to worry. It was the same with his legs – nothing did as it was told. He couldn't even lift his head without resistance. It was then that he felt himself moving backwards, as though he was being wheeled slowly into what appeared to be a small, grey tunnel.

"What..?"

"It's alright, Mike. You're doing really well. It won't be long now." Replied a voice from somewhere out of Mikes visual range.

"What's going on..? Where am I…"

"You're just having a scan, you'll be out in no time. I just need you to keep still for a minute, alright?"

"No…no, I want a minute – I need a minute, I want to get out"

"Mike? It's me." The sound of Harvey's voice made Mike relax a little, though the claustrophobic nature of the MRI machine forced him to clamp his eyes shut, instead trying to focus on Harvey.

"What happened..?"

From where Harvey was stood in the narrow side room, he could see just see where Mike's arms were loosely restrained, the hand he could see gripped into a fist. He sounded dazed and confused, and Harvey wasn't sure what he could say that would help him settle.

"…You had a seizure-"

"…That sucks…" The nonchalant comment was probably supposed to sound melodramatic, but in his current state it just sounded weak and hoarse.

"You're going to be fine, Mike."

"You know that for sure..?" Harvey was sure the hesitation was more than enough of an answer. But, finally, he managed to reply;

"You need to trust me, okay? You're going to be alright"

"I trust you"

"Good"

"I just don't trust my brain to not explode…" Smiling softly, Harvey placed the microphone back in its place, and went to lean back against the wall. Without taking his eyes off the machine, he addressed the doctor for the third time that day.

"Tell me I didn't just lie to him." His answer came from a few feet away, taking a page from Harvey's book and not taking its eyes off of the computer screen.

"Not necessarily, no"

"But he will be fine. You've caught this thing early, so, what? You just go in, take it out, and stitch him back up? And that's it, right?"

"He's in good hands, Mr Specter" Once again, Harvey felt the cracks in his demeanour getting wider, his tone urgent.

"Tell me he's going to be alright." The doctor turned, having the decency to look at Harvey when he spoke again.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."


	8. Donna

The results of the scan confirmed the doctor's theory; an aneurysm, about 8 millimetres in size, had formed on one of the arteries in Mike's brain. It explained the headaches and the seizure, and because of his age and general health, his chances of full recovery were high. The sooner they operated the better. Harvey had these facts, had all the information he could need. And yet, He still found himself worrying. While Mike slept (a heavy, drug induced sleep, but it was sleep none the less) the lawyer found himself ignoring his phone as it buzzed with irritation on the table top across the room. It'd been going off periodically for the past two hours, but each and every call and message had fallen on deaf ears.

See, clients could be appeased – he'd gone to meetings, closed as many cases as he could in the short time he spent at the office nowadays. It was all just moving money around and keeping the rich happy – but then this had happened and suddenly everything had been turned upside down for him. Suddenly, Mike came before clients. Mike came before keeping up appearances and keeping Jessica in the loop and money. Harvey wasn't even sure when things had changed between them. It wasn't some sudden realization, and it didn't happen like it did in the movies (when do things ever?) It was just gradual. Mike hadn't ever really addressed it. One evening they'd been in Harvey's office when everyone else had gone home, and slowly as the drink went to their heads and dulled inhibitions, heads were leaned on shoulders and playful shoves made. Soon there was hesitation. Then cautious kisses, and playful shoves were returned as fists in shirts and being brought in closer. Just as they'd gotten comfortable with it, Harvey had been the one to break it off, leaving his office in a slur of muttered excuses, and leaving Mike a pile of mussed hair and flushed cheeks.

The next day, Harvey had hoped that the previous evening would go forgotten. It hadn't been professional, it hadn't been a woman. Of course there wasn't a personal issue with that, but Harvey had very little patience when it came to gossip, especially when it concerned him and his private life. But as Mike knocked on his door and came in, greeting him with new found information on the case he'd dug up after Harvey had left, it became clear over the course of the day that not only did he remember (of course he remembered; it was Mike…) he was choosing to not bring it up. More than likely because Harvey was his boss. Most likely because he was his boss and male. They were both in very much the same boat on the subject, or so Harvey imagined. He didn't even seem to notice when Harvey hinted at whether or not he felt hung-over. He was doing it on purpose, and whether or not it was to try and spare Harvey of any potential embarrassment, he had to take another (sober) leap before he fell or flew.

Only, he didn't notice when Harvey followed him to the file room, nor did he turn around when he silently bid another first year their leave, and quietly locked the door. Though spending the next fifteen minutes continuing the previous evenings encounter got more than Mike's attention. It became clear to Harvey that not only was this insane and completely unexpected, but that he was well and truly stuck with the kid. After ties had been straightened and shirts tucked in and school-boy smirks suppressed, neither man said anything on the topic. It just happened naturally after that. At Pearson Hardman, they were partner and associate. Out of hours, they were arguing over which movie to watch while popcorn burned in the microwave and Mike took up a little too much couch so Harvey would be forced to let him use his lap as a pillow.

And that's how it had been for months now. Six next week, as it happened. But, all of that was teetering on the edge of being lost. For once, facts offered Harvey no comfort. Every surgery carried risks. The chances of complications during or after the operation were low, but the fact there were any chances at all was what kept Harvey at the hospital, still ignoring his phone and watching Mike sleep as though any second he would evaporate. Eventually, at around 5am he did fall asleep, though a few hours later, he was gently woken up by a familiar voice. Lifting his head from where he'd been slouched on the bed, Harvey squinted at the light streaming through the windows, eyes finally adjusting enough for him to recognize Donna leaning over him. She didn't need to say anything for him to know how he must of looked, but of course, she did anyway.

"You look like hell…"

"I feel like it"

"Oh my God" Going round to the left side of the bed, she slowly approached Mike, her face a picture of worry. He was still fast asleep – a good thing, too – because even though fatigue heavy eyes, Harvey could tell she was about to get emotional. Her fingertips grazed the cast that hugged his arm as if seeing if it was real. Harvey was glad that his face was mostly healed – if she'd seen him the day after he'd been brought in, he was sure she would have had a meltdown.

"Is he going to be okay?" Her hand came up to cover her mouth when Harvey glanced up at her, not quite knowing what to tell her.

"He'll need surgery, but his chances are good. Try not to worry about him"

"You're right. I'm going to ignore you, but you're right."

"He'll be happy you came by"

"Most people would be. Besides, I figured he'd appreciate a change of scenery. No offence to your face, but I don't know how much it'd help the healing process of the wounded."

"You're kidding – this?" Harvey gestured to his face pointedly, but half heartedly. "This is pure magic right here." She smiled at the joke, and went about moving his suits off the spare chair, and dragging it over beside him. For a while, neither of them really said anything of any substance; he updated her about Mike, what had happened, what was going to happen. The rest of it was small talk. Until finally, she touched his shoulder gently, her tone sincere and her smile kind.

"…You really care about him, don't you? I mean, past work." Unsure of how to respond, Harvey just looked at Mike. So, she continued, bringing her hands together in front of her.

"You've been in here nearly every day, and every night without fail since he was brought in. I've never seen you act like this, ever. I mean, I'm sure if I was in Mike's place, you wouldn't do that-"

"Donna, of course I-" She stopped him.

"No, you wouldn't. And you know it. That's fine, Harvey –it's normal. If it were me, you'd be hell to work with while you found who put me in here and skin them alive. Or at least, I hope you would. Maybe not the last part. But you'd fight for me. With Mike though…you haven't left his side" At first, Harvey wanted to snap at her, but he realized he'd have no grounds to do so. She was right.

"He needs someone here, Donna"

"I know. And I admire how much you're committing to him. You know Jessica's been hell-on-wheels lately? It's been a party trying to keep your clients happy, I'll tell you that."

"What's your point, Donna?"

"My point is that...you…aren't acting like you. You're acting like your relationship with Mike isn't just employer-employee anymore" Harvey didn't know why he was surprised that Donna knew. She was scarily good at reading people, measuring changes in relationships, platonic or otherwise. And yet, he found himself unable to deny anything. He just looked at her, waiting for her to finish. After a moment, she did, tucking a rebel piece of auburn hair behind her ear.

"I'm not asking you to tell me everything, Harvey. Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong here, but if there is something going on…I don't know, I guess I'd just like to know. I'm used to knowing what happens in your life. And if that happens to be Mike, well…I'm happy for you. Really."

Harvey was rarely stuck for things to say, but this was one of those times. Not for long, but long enough to confirm what Donna had just said. Without another word, she pushed her hand into one of his, squeezing his fingers. She had to leave soon after that, but not without giving Mike a kiss on the head, and Harvey with an affectionate hug, and the advice to call Jessica before she had his office converted to a personal gym. He gave it another few hours before finally finding his phone and stepping outside. Jessica was angry, but more in a concerned way. She understood, but only to an extent. It wasn't professional. Harvey putting his work onto the back burner to keep Mike company wasn't good enough. Though she was worried for him and sent him her best, she had an obligation to make sure Harvey did his job. Half of him knew she was right, but it was the other half that told her that he'd be in here whether she liked it or not (of course, not quite worded that way, but it had much the same effect.)

"I'm going now, Jessica. Fire me, don't fire me, do whatever you need to. But I can't leave him."

"You can't? Or you won't?"

"Pick your favourite."


	9. Room service

A day later, and Harvey hadn't been fired. Mike had suffered another, smaller fit, though further tests concluded that he wasn't in any immediate danger. Begrudgingly, Harvey had sat down with Doctor I-can't-quite-hear-you-from-up-on-my-pedestal, and had the next few steps explained to him at length. Mike was scheduled for theatre at two in the afternoon the next day, and that they were very confident he'd walk away with next to no complications. The surgeons were the best, he'd be in safe hands, and Harvey didn't need to worry. Harvey could even afford to go home if he wanted to. That was around the time that he'd excused himself, and gone back to Mike's room. He'd assumed Mike was still asleep, as he had been since his second scan. He'd only just sat down when the blankets shifted, the body beneath them unfurling almost warily.

"Harvey?"

"Hey" Mike's words seemed to just crawl out of his mouth; his eyes still glued shut and his breathing deep and heavy.

"Is it over?"

"Is what over?"

"…Surgery – I, um…heard you talking. To a nurse, I think, I don't really know…I feel weird…"

"You've been asleep for about fourteen hours –want some water?"

"Mmm…" While Harvey went about getting him a drink, Mike mustered the energy to push himself across the bed, making room for one more. He felt awful; everything hurt – his head, his ribs were aching, his wrist. He wanted to sleep but at the same time couldn't think of anything worse. It even took a gargantuan effort to grip the paper cup being handed to him. He made himself drain it completely, carelessly going to put it on the table and missing and completely not giving a fuck. Every movement was frustratingly sluggish. He just wanted to go home, to his own bed, his own food. Harvey was perched on the edge of the bed, watching Mike but not saying anything. Hoarsely clearing his throat Mike repeated his question.

"Is it over?"

"Sorry. You're still in one piece, until tomorrow afternoon anyway."

"Can I go back to sleep till it is?" Harvey considered this with a soft smile.

"If you're that tired, I'm not gonna stop you"

"I'm not tired…I just, don't wanna be awake while I wait…I'll over think everything and freak myself out more…"

"You've got nothing to worry about. Mike, they're going to look after you."

"But there's a risk, right..? This is my brain, and…" His sentence trailed as he rubbed his hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to order his thoughts. "…what if something goes wrong? My memory's already screwed, what if it gets worse? Or something else happens?"

"Mike – Mike, stop. This isn't helping you."

As a response, he just reached over and tugged on Harvey's hand, silently asking him to get in bed with him. Even after being in the hospital with him, Harvey still smelled good – not like everything else in the place. So sterile and clinical, and then there was the God awful stuff they passed as meals. But Harvey…he was clean, smelled and felt and tasted expensive. It was as though Mike had snuck into a fancy hotel and was crashing in one of the VIP suites and at any second he'd be chased out by security. That's how their relationship felt. Only, security was constantly busy, but room service always available. And he fucking loved it. He loved the suite. He loved Harvey. Some people say love is simple once you boil it all down; others say it's as complex as the meaning of life.

In Mike's opinion, people talked a load of crap. They make it out to be this huge thing that everyone aspires to have but hardly anyone has the balls to reach up and grab, but really at the end of the day, it's staying in hospital for day and night after day and night, and not having to say anything to know that you can tell each other everything. He knew he could be a pain in the ass – he also knew how much of a pain Harvey could be – but that was part of it. While fingers absently combed through his hair and a voice told him secret reassurances, Mike wondered what would have happened, or where he'd be right this second had he not stumbled into the Harvard interviews, or if Rick Sorkin had shown up seconds after him, or if Harvey had decided to play by the rules. Harvey would be mentoring some suit-clad law school clone and he'd probably be in jail. And most certainly, neither would be laying with another man in a too-small-for-two hospital bed, one soaking up the others warmth and protection like a emotionally needy sponge, the other happily providing said protection as they tried to convince their partner they'd be alright.

It was difficult at first, but after a few tries Mike managed to wriggle the buttons on Harvey's shirt open. Harvey didn't put up much protest – only that Mikes hand was cold as he slipped it under the fabric. In contrast, Harvey's skin was sinfully warm –so much so that Mike shifted himself a few inches closer, and rested his forehead against exposed chest. It was quiet between them for a minute or so, before eventually, a small voice came up from the pile of blankets and tangle of limbs.

"…I'm scared, Harvey."

"…I know. Me too."


	10. Rupture

They stayed up for most of the night talking after that. Not about anything in particular – just odd thoughts and concerns. For the most part, Mike seemed more relaxed about the prospect of surgery the next day, and equally, Harvey was less worried about him. Of course, the hours spent alone waiting for him to be done in theatre would be torture, but he knew he had to keep it together. Mike would be fine. Mike would be fine; this quickly became his mantra as the hours lazily rolled by. Being careful of his left arm, Mike rolled onto his side, turning his back to Harvey but also allowing him to pull him a little closer under the covers. One arm remained pinned under his neck, the other wrapped protectively around his middle, fingers entwined with Mikes. For a while the traffic from the streets below served as the only narration to the scene, until finally, a quiet question broke the peace.

"What will happen if my memory doesn't come back?" Blearily opening his eyes, Harvey nuzzled the back of Mikes affectionately, if not tiredly.

"It will…you just have to be patient"

"Is that what you'll tell Jessica when she notices I'm not performing as well as usual? I mean, right now I remember…well, enough about the law to get by for a few weeks. But if it stays gone, we're screwed"

"Let me worry about that; you need to worry about getting back to one hundred per cent"

"If I'm not working like I used to, then I won't be at one hundred per cent…"

"We'll work something out. Just trust me, okay?" No argument followed – only a small, defeated nod. In all honesty, Mike was exhausted with the entire situation. He just wanted to know either way –whether he'd be going back to the office anytime soon or not. Maybe he'd be lucky – after all, it wasn't as though he couldn't remember anything. There just wouldn't be any more memorizing entire books in hours or defeating towers of boxes of files overnight. He would be okay…maybe. It was just not knowing that kept his mind from settling properly.

Eventually, the two of them fell into a heavy, fatigue-weighted sleep. Mike's remained dreamless, as his long hours of rest had been recently, while Harvey's were forgettable, as always. Over the next few hours, both moved very little, Harvey's arm acting as a secure anchor to keep Mike close. As a general rule, he wasn't overly fond of public displays of affection (of course, this rule had been broken once or three times) but as of late he'd found himself needing some kind of physical reassurance that Mike wasn't going anywhere if it could be helped, regardless of whether or not there were nurses doing rounds or the famed doctor was in to check everything was running smoothly. Harvey still didn't like him, though Mike didn't seem to have much of an issue with him. He'd described him as 'needing to work on his bedside manner, but a pretty good doctor.'

Harvey would have used the term 'arrogant jackass', but whatever worked best.

Another four hours passed before Harvey woke up, feeling cramped and sore, but a little more recharged than he had the previous day. Being careful not to wake Mike he got up, turning back to the bed when he saw its other occupant instinctively curling into the space Harvey had just been occupying. With a small smile, he checked the time – 8:15 – as he headed into the en suite, not bothering to lock the door as he stripped. There's few things a hot shower can't mute over for a while – standing under tides of water hot enough to flush the skin is enough to allow your mind to wander to other places. Or, gives you the time and space to think things through more clearly. In this instance, it was Harvey's chance to convince himself that, for once, he had to accept being completely out of control. In a few hours Mike would be in the hands of strangers, skin and skull being pulled away and an artery being fixed up. But while all that was happening would come the chances of infections, more seizures, bleeding into the brain, stroke…all worst case scenario, and yet all very possible, even if the chances were slim. It's been said so many times, written in books so much, but when it came to it Harvey didn't know what he'd do if he somehow lost Mike completely. They understood each other, and Mike was one of the very few that he let in. Mike wasn't run of the mill, and no one could or would ever replace him. Not in any future Harvey wanted a willing part in anyway. Suds and foam circled the drain as he stepped out, pulling a towel from the rack. A shower and shave improved his appearance, but his mood remained dark and laced with anxiety. Looking in the mirror, he all but grimaced at how much older he appeared to look – or rather, that he suddenly seemed to be looking his age. As he dressed and re-entered the room, he took his phone from the table, and headed out, pulling a fresh suit jacket on as the door shut behind him. For the most part his cases had been taken care of (a debt Jessica would surely keep note of, ready to pull out whenever he even thought of crossing a line) even still; Harvey knew that she'd want to be updated.

It was a crisp, cold morning, but the fresh air felt good against his skin and in his lungs as he made his way out of the hospital. Taking a seat on a bench across the street, he called Jessica – as always, she picked up her phone promptly, though even the usual silk-smooth tone of her voice couldn't hide the element of surprise (and a little concern) as she answered. Evidently, she wasn't expecting his call – not so early, anyway. As always, their conversation was short and sweet, but once he'd hung up, he did feel somewhat better. Now that he'd been reassured things were being taken care of back at the office, a small weight had been lifted for the time being. So, he sat, phone in hand as he watched people going about, some starting their day and others just finishing it, but all of them in the usual New York rush. Whenever he came out here he usually only stayed a few minutes, but this time he ended up sitting on that bench for nearly an hour. Just taking time to breathe, to think. The rest of the day until Mike was back in his room would be gridlocked with stress, so he intended to enjoy the calm before the storm as well as he could. It would be fine. Worrying wouldn't help anything or anyone. Mike would be fine. After another ten minutes or so he got to his feet, and made his way back inside. Taking the lift to the third floor, Harvey had barely stepped out of the doors when someone crashed into him, forcing both men back a few steps.

"Watch it" Harvey snapped, though the guy's hands were already coming up as he stumbled away.

"Sorry, man-" Eyes narrowing, Harvey looked from his own suit front to him as he turned away. He knew that voice from somewhere…

"Trevor..?" Without another word, the hooded man just picked up his pace until he was sprinting, his trainers squeaking against the floor. The sound echoed down the corridor even after he'd rounded a corner. On instinct, Harvey pursued him, though by the time he'd reached the stair well, his suspect was already on his way out of the fire exit, the door slamming open as he made his escape. This wasn't good. Harvey knew trouble followed Trevor like a bad omen, and the last thing he needed was another of his messes to clear up. Heading back down the hallway, his heart jumped in his throat and his steps slowed when he saw some nurses hurrying down in the same direction as him, footfalls almost in time with their pagers. One by one they disappeared through one of the doors towards the end of the corridor.

Mikes room.


	11. Blame

By the time Harvey had reached the doorway, Mike was being wheeled out of the room and back towards the elevators. He couldn't get a clear look at him, so instead he went straight for the doctor who was following close behind.

"What the hell happened?!"

"He deteriorated – it's likely he's begun bleeding into his brain"

"What does mean for him – what's going to happen?"

"Come with him upstairs and I'll explain everything then-"

"No, you'll explain it to me now"

"I don't have time for this, Mr Specter. Mike doesn't have time. Either follow behind, or stay here." The doctor shot back, before stepping into the lift, the doors closing shortly after. Hitting the button for another elevator, Harvey found himself pacing, trying to order his thoughts as this new barrage of information seeped through him. He needed to stay, he had to be here – but some much of him wanted to go after whoever had walked into him. It had sounded like Trevor, but Harvey hadn't gotten a good enough look to be absolutely sure. Who else would have been visiting Mike? Or rather, who else would have been here when they shouldn't have been? Who else would hurt Mike, intentionally or not, and then run to avoid the blame? It was Trevor…it had to have been. But why had he been here in the first place? As far as Harvey knew, Mike hadn't spoken to him in months.

The doors to the elevator weren't even completely open before Harvey was forcing himself through, all but punching the correct floor number before leaning against the wall, hands covering his face as he attempted to pull himself together. This wasn't supposed to happen…he shouldn't have been gone so long. If he'd only been out for a few minutes as he was supposed to, Trevor wouldn't have gotten anywhere near Mike. And Mike wouldn't be where he was now; suddenly dropped from 'stable' to 'critical', and all without Harvey with him.

After being pointed in the direction of the OR, Harvey didn't get far before being met halfway by Mike's doctor. Without a word, he put a hand on Harvey's arm, and guided him into an empty waiting area.

"Take a seat"

"I'm fine standing – what's happening to him?" He explained that it was highly likely that the aneurysm had ruptured; meaning Mike was bleeding into the brain and the surrounding tissues. Subarachnoid haemorrhage, he called it. It was around this point that Harvey sunk into one of the chairs behind him, his hands joining together as he rested elbows on knee's. The doctor mirrored the action, pulling his chair forward an inch or two.

"How did this happen."

"There was always a risk that it-"

"No – he was _fine, _until that guy came to see him – who was he, what did he say his name was?" Frowning, the doctor leaned forward.

"I didn't see anyone go into that room other than staff -" Harvey was back on his feet in a second, putting himself across the room, if only to decrease the risk of him lashing out the man telling him everything he didn't want to hear.

"Well I saw him coming out – he recognised me, ran off down the stairs. Next thing I know Mike's crashing and _you _have no idea what caused it. He's supposed to be safe here, how am I meant to leave him alone for five minutes if you can't keep anyone from just waltzing in and doing whatever the hell they please?"

"Calm down, Mr Specter"

"I'll calm down when Mike's stable again-"

"Which he will be as soon as the neurosurgeons get in and stop the bleed. There's nothing you can do now but sit here and wait." And he was right, which was the most frustrating thing. Turning his back to the older man, Harvey slowly pushed his left hand into his pocket, his right covering his mouth for a moment. Finally, he brought it down long enough to talk again.

"Mike is my responsibility…whatever happens to him-"

"You're his employer, Mr Specter. Whatever happens to him now is up to our surgeons, and up to his ability to get better."

"I wasn't here. Whatever happens to him is on me."

"You can't blame yourself. None of this is your doing. I'll have security pull up the footage from the stairwell within the last half hour, see if we can't get some kind of ID on whoever was here." Whatever he said after that may as well have been white noise. Nothing could convince Harvey he wasn't to blame; if Mike…if something went wrong now, the last thing Mike would have heard Harvey saying would have been empty promises. He'd told him everything would be fine – that he'd be fine – and that all Mike had to do was trust him. Look where that had gotten him now. Taking his leave, the doctor left the room, leaving Harvey alone.


	12. Ringtone

When Mike woke up, Harvey wasn't there. Nothing new there, he usually left for a few hours every other day or so, to call Jessica or to just to stretch his legs. Gradually, Mike woke up enough to get up and shower – Harvey hadn't been lying when he'd told him he was starting to look like a hobo several days back. He hadn't realized how awful he was looking – his hair was a greasy mess and he desperately needed a shave, not to mention the dark circles around his eyes. He felt slow, sluggish, like he'd just gotten off a long flight and jet lag had set in. Locking the bathroom door, he pulled off his shirt, wincing at the ache in his ribs that still refused to fade. For the most part, his bruises had gone down, though his chest and abdomen were still sore to the touch. The laceration on his head would leave a scar, but like everything else, it'd fade as well. Apart from the memory of the night it happened, at least.

The hot water helped soothe his nerves at first, but revisiting the event sent a wave of nausea straight through him, forcing him brace himself against the wall. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to take some deep breaths, but the humidity just meant the air crawled down his throat, sticking to his oesophagus and lungs. The more he tried to not think about it, the more insistent his mind was that he remember it, each moment plastered to the front of his mind like a movie playing on a screen.

At first he'd just thought he'd become another unlucky crime statistic, and to minimise damage had offered the two men what he had on him. Their faces were covered, not that they needed to be – Mike would have had a hard time identifying them in the darkness of the alleyway regardless. Though as it turned out, they weren't interested in his valuables – they were interested in him.

"Guys, look – I don't want trouble." That fell on deaf ears as he was backed further in, the lights of the traffic behind them creating a frightening silhouette of a crowbar gripped tight in the hand of the tallest man.

"We want our money"

"I have cash, you can have it-"

"We were told you'd have it ready – unless you've got some deep pockets in that fancy suit, I doubt you've got ten grand on you" Feeling sweat collecting in his palms and his heart picking up its pace, Mike tried an age old tactic, praying it would work for him.

"I've got it – just not here. You think I'm gonna carry that kind of money with me?" In a second he was being shoved to the ground, losing his footing over a trash bag and hitting the ground hard. While one kept an eye on the mouth of the alleyway, the other hoisted Mike to his feet and pinned him to the nearest wall.

"Just so we're clear, _Mike" _His name was pronounced with an extra tint of menace. "We're not fuckin' around here. You either give us the money we were promised, or I rip your head off"

"I already told you, I don't have it here-"

"Bullshit" It was around this point that Mike really started to get scared – there was a gun pointed at him, but he didn't see any of the other options Harvey was always preaching about. He had no idea what these guys were talking about, he didn't know what money they were expecting.

"It's not, you've just gotta let me get it – I can get it for you, it's in my office-"

"Do I look retarded? We know who you are, who you work for. You knew what was happening tonight. You don't have the cash on you, you don't have it. Period. We didn't come all the way here to get fucked around"

The following minutes were all too clear – he remembered a fist connecting with his jaw, then his eye, then the ground came up to cushion his fall for a second time, though after that it was just a series of painful impacts and crunches, a booted foot buried itself in his lower abdomen again and again, agonies erupting from different regions of his body all at once. In a feeble attempt to protect himself, he brought his hands up to cover his head and face, though that just meant in more broken bones and pained cries from the associate. This all seemed to go on for hours, though by the time they both let enough to let him try and crawl away, only seconds passed before he was being dragged back the few inches he managed, and with arms pinned behind him, he was forced to his feet. Blood coated his face and into his eyes, it was all he could taste and smell. He felt sick, and could barely focus on anything-

The taller of the men had taken a step forward, closing the distance between him and Mike and then was just more pain. He wouldn't have been able to tell you which had hurt more – the switchblade being pushed into his flesh, or his assailant withdrawing it seconds later. As agony ripped through his side in overwhelming waves, Mike was finally let go, his body crumpling to the floor in a broken pile. Crouching next to him, his attacker leant down, and gripped Mikes face in his hand, pulling his head up to look at him.

"Tell Trevor next time he feels like screwing us around, he'll be the one dead in an alley" With that, he straightened up, and delivered a final, violent kick to the groin, before motioning for his partner to follow him. Within seconds, they had disappeared into the crowds, anonymous as every other face as Mike lay beaten and bleeding.

Some time passed before he finally managed to get himself sat against the dumpster, pain roaring through his system, every part of him hurting so badly he could barely stand it. He wasn't sure if it was blood or tears rolling down his face, and he didn't know why Trevor had dragged him into his latest mess – he couldn't focus on anything now, vision only offering disjointed shapes and ears ringing with sirens and noises too loud and yet too distant. Biting his already split lip, he fought through the pain in his hand and arm as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, but soon after that he lost consciousness, the ringtone set to Harvey's number accompanying his descent into blackness.

It was unfortunate that his memory wasn't screwed up enough to let him block out how he'd been put in hospital. Leaning over the sink, Mike tried to will himself to be sick in an attempt to rid himself of the nauseous feeling that kept sweeping over him, skin prickling with anxiety. After a minute or two he gave up, and had just finished dressing into clean clothes when he heard someone come into his room.

"Mike..?"

"Yeah, in here -hang on" Quickly drying his hands, he came out of the bathroom, though he didn't get far before stopping dead.

"Trevor…"


	13. Surgery

The hours crawled by like years for Harvey. He'd known the time spent waiting would be difficult, but now that Mike was much weaker than he had been beforehand, the thought of him not making it through surgery was far too real, and the lawyer didn't know how he was supposed to cope with the possibility that the next time he might be seeing Mike would be on a morticians table. When his phone rang, he considered just hanging up, turning it off, or throwing the damned thing at the wall.

But then he saw who it was, waiting for him to pick up.

"Donna"

"Harvey, it's me – I just need to clear something with you for Jessica. I told her you wouldn't want be picking up your phone, especially today…but you are. What's happened..?" He was eternally grateful he was alone, because the tears pricking at his eyes would have been a pain to explain away.

"...Harvey?"

"I need you to come in, Donna."

"Oh my God, is Mike-"

"Now, Donna." His voice was thick with emotion – so much so that instead of offering further explanation, he hung up on her, and dropped the phone onto the chair next to him as his hands met his face, this time in an attempt to block out everything and compose himself. He was still sat that way when Donna arrived, though when she managed to pry his fingers away, she saw that he'd been trying to keep from crying, and ultimately failed.

"What's happened?"

"How're you doing, man? You look-"

"What the hell are you doing here..?"

"Just came to see how you were. I heard you were in here , and, well sorry I haven't come to visit sooner-"

"You're the entire reason I'm even here – Just, get out. I mean it. I'm giving you a chance to leave and not come back before I throw you out of the Goddamn window" In a gesture of surrender, Trevor's hands came up as he stepped closer to Mike who, in turn, took three back.

"Hey, I don't want trouble man – I just came to talk"

"_Talk? _Okay, alright, let's er…let's talk about the fact you sent a couple of fucking psycho's to _beat me half to death-"_

"Okay, I get you're angry – I do, but you've gotta hear me out"

"I told you to get the hell out, Trevor. Now."

"I didn't send them – well, okay I did – but I never thought they'd actually go for you. I just needed to buy myself some time"

"To do what, Trevor? I haven't talked to you, seen you, in _months – _Do you not think that I cut you out for a reason? You should never have come back to New York-"

"What can I say, business is better here" The loop his old friend had travelled in wasn't much of a novelty any more. Mike couldn't even bring himself to roll his eyes or scoff, only glare at him as he steadied himself on the end of the bed. A wave of dizziness meant he lost focus for a moment, and part of him instinctively wanted to lie down, but he needed Trevor to leave.

"You got what you wanted. Now go."

"What..? No, no I didn't – look, Mike – I know you hate my guts, and you don't owe me anything"

"Trevor…"

"I need money – I mean, I had it, but someone took it or I lost it or I don't know what, but that was why those guys came after you. I figured you'd be at work, so would Harvey-"

"He already bailed you out once – he's the reason you're not dead right now, and you expected him to just roll over and do it again?"

"I knew it would be me in the gutter if I told them the truth-"

"That's where you belong – Jesus Christ, Trevor – I nearly died! You've got more wrong with you than me if you think for even a…second…" He could hear his speech slurring ever so slightly as another, more intense wave of dizziness crashed over him like a tsunami, his grip on the bed frame turning his knuckles white. Whatever Trevor said next went through one ear and out the other as a new pain blared through his head like an air raid siren, and this time it took no willing on Mike's part for him to be violently sick. His grip loosening by the millisecond, he stumbled to the side and tried grabbing at air to stop himself falling. Finding nothing, he let himself fade into darkness, his head cracking against the corner of the table before he finally hit the floor.

Apparently it had been a close call – far too close – for Mike. It was likely that the aneurysm had grown in size and ruptured, and if he'd been found any later, then it was probable he would have suffered a stroke, or worse. This was what Harvey was told, after four and a half hours of torturous waiting. He didn't let himself crumble again, though Donna did feel her hand being squeezed a little too hard as the surgeon ran through the possible complications that could follow an operation like this. Infections, further haemorrhaging, more seizures…

"When can I see him." It wasn't so much a question as a demand dressed nicely.

"He'll be out of it for a several more hours at the most, but even when he comes to it's likely he'll be confused, tired. You can see him straight away, but remember he needs his rest. Talk to him a little, but nothing too exciting or active." Donna did most of the talking after that, asking more questions as though she were reading them from cue cards in Harvey's mind. Once she was satisfied, she turned back to Harvey, rubbing his arm gently, bringing his attention back to her.

"Come on…you need to eat something."

"I have to see him"

"You heard the doctor – he won't be awake for a while yet."

"Donna."

"You need to take care of yourself. Come and get a coffee with me, we'll be half an hour at the most. Then you can come back and sit with him till he comes around." Her tone meant that she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, and despite wanting to argue, Harvey let her lead him down a floor or two to the cafeteria. He didn't eat or drink much, and neither did he. But they talked – he told her about Trevor, about how he was the one to put Mike in the OR early. About how he was going to find him and-

"You need to focus on helping Mike recover. Let the police deal with Trevor. I'm serious, Harvey. I know you, and right now all that anger? You have to channel it, use it to commit to Mike like you have been already. He needs you more than ever now."


	14. Explanation

They ended up staying downstairs longer than anticipated, but by the time Harvey and Donna had made their way back up to Mike's room, they were quickly re-directed to the ICU where he was being kept under observation. When they got there, he was conscious and talking quietly to one of the doctors checking his vitals. Noticing the new arrivals, she gave Mikes shoulder a friendly pat as she excused herself from the bedside. Pausing by Harvey, she offered him a reassuring smile.

"He's been awake for a little while now – so far everything looks fine" Harvey felt Donna rub his arm as she spoke up.

"How's he holding up?"

"Very well, actually – he's pretty tired, but his numbers are looking good. It's common for patients to feel sick or confused after a procedure like this, so if there are any problems try not to worry – just come find one of the nurses to help."

"Thank you so much" Harvey offered his thanks as well, before breaking away from Donna, letting the two women talk as he stepped towards the bed. Opening his eyes, Mike turned to look at him, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Hey…"

"Hey" Mike went to extend a hand toward him, but when he noticed Donna he brought it back down. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Harvey took his hand in both of his, regardless of who else was in the room. Noticing his expression, Mike weakly squeezed Harvey's fingers.

"What is it..?" Though before Harvey could answer, Donna came round the other side of the bed, and leaned down to give Mike a gentle hug.

"Hey, Donna"

"Hi – how are you feeling?"

"Like some nut job drilled into my head and poked around in my brain for an hour or two…so, pretty good"

"We're all missing you, you know. Even Louis – and Rachel is constantly asking about you"

"Yeah? Well, tell her to come see me…I need some new company. Being stuck with my boss 24/7 isn't nearly as fun as it sounds…" Admittedly that made Harvey smile, which in turn widened Mikes. The three talked for a while, about the hospital, about general things, Donna's time at the office without her boys there to keep her entertained. As time passed, Mike became more responsive and coherent, much to Harvey's relief. At one point, Donna went out of the room to answer her phone, letting Harvey ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"How did you get this..?" To clear away any confusion, he briefly grazed his fingertips over the growing bruise around Mike's right eye.

"Right before I got taken into theatre, I fell down – hit my head pretty hard against the table and blacked out." From the moment he said 'fell', he knew Harvey didn't believe him.

"I saw someone leaving your room – was it Trevor?" Instantly, Mikes expression hardened as he looked away momentarily.

"…Yeah. He came to-"

"I knew it was him. Why was he here? I thought he wasn't in New York"

"He, ah…came back. For business reason apparently, and came to see me to ask for another bail out…" Mike replied with a disbelieving scoff at the memory, while Harvey just looked livid. So much so that he had to get up, pulling his hand out of Mikes in the process.

"He _what? _Why? No, let me guess, money right? After all this time – was he the one that did that to you?" He gestured to the wound to Mike's face, to which he shook his head.

"No. Harvey, I'm not lying – he didn't touch me. He told me why he was here, I told him to get out, then I felt dizzy and fell and now, here I am."

"I wasn't saying you were lying-"

"No, but you were implying I was protecting him. Trust me; he's gone for good…" Considering something for a second or two, he added; "But…it was his fault that I got put in here." He explained the situation as well as he could recall it, although he left out the details of the attack itself. He told Harvey about the money he was expected to have with him, how Trevor had given his name to save himself. He'd just finished explaining himself when Donna came back in, slowing to a stop when she saw how tense the air had suddenly become.

"Okay…what have I missed?"

"Nothing. I was just leaving."

"Harvey-"

"I'll be back later." And with that, he stormed out of the room, Mike's calls going ignored. Sighing, he lay back against his pillows, closing his eyes in frustration. Donna took a seat where Harvey had been sat minutes before, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

"You okay?" When she just got a shrug in reply, she pressed further.

"He looked pissed…what happened?"

"I told him about Trevor, and I guess he didn't like what I had to say"

"What did you have to say, exactly?" With another sigh, Mike went about explaining everything again, skipping out more detail than before to spare Donna the graphics. However, he didn't get to finish this round of explanation before Donna held up a finger to stop him, and hurriedly left the room, with Mike just watching her go, even more confused than when he'd first woken up.

Thankfully for her, Harvey hadn't strayed far from the hospital, though when he saw her coming towards him, he started walking away, ignoring his name being called. Picking up the pace, she eventually managed to side step around him, pressing a manicured hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks.

"Donna-"

"Where are you going, Harvey."

"I have some things I need to deal with"

"No, you have some_one _to deal with, and all it will get you is a murder charge and a ruined suit." Harvey just shot her a look, which she deflected with one just as blunt.

"I know you want to string Trevor up and have him flogged, but that won't help anything. Mike's getting better now. Hurting Trevor won't undo what he did-"

"'What he did' was put Mike in there in the first place!"

"I know, Harvey, and it's awful what happened to him – I wish I could have stopped what happened, but the fact of the matter is that it's over now. The only thing to do now is-"

"No, Donna, you know what? The only thing I have to do now is track him down and make him wish he'd never stepped foot back into New York" She opened her mouth to try and protest, but he was already on his way down the street. She didn't try to stop him this time.


	15. Mens Rea

Trevor should have stayed on his couch, should have ignored the knocking at his door. But curiousity is a killer, as he was about to find out. The door wasn't even an inch open before it came back to hit him in the face, forcing him to reel back in shock. There was barely time for him to register who he'd let in before he was violently shoved against the nearest wall.

"You really ought to buy a chain latch"

"Hey man, come on – I don't want trouble"

"Really? That's interesting, because neither did Mike"

The next twenty minutes were a gradual process that alternated between Trevor being beaten, and Trevor being thrown against various pieces of furniture. At one point he hit the edge of a countertop so hard Harvey could have sworn he heard his nose crack. Blood streaming down his face from various wounds, Trevor had long since given up trying to fight back. Hoisting him up off the ground as he crouched down close, his voice barely above a venomous whisper.

"Now, I want you to pay close attention, you piece of shit. You come anyone near Mike, you so much as show your face within 10 miles of my firm, and I'll – look at me, _look at me – _I'll be back here, and don't think for one second I'll hesitate in ripping your Goddamned head off." Clenching Trevor's face in his fingers, he gripped down hard, and leant in a little closer.

"Am I clear?" He could only nod, his ability to speak severely hindered by Harvey's fingers digging into his cheeks, and the fact his mouth felt like it was filling with blood. Once he was sure his message had been received, Harvey roughly released Trevor's face from his grasp, and straightened up, leaving the apartment without another word. He considered threatening him, telling him something awful would befall him should he tell anyone what had happened. But he knew he didn't have to; Trevor was smart enough to know when he was beaten.

Or at least, he would know how to now.

Once he got back to the hospital, Harvey detoured into the mens bathroom to clean himself up as best he could. Carefully, he washed his hands of the blood and mess, the hot water and soap stinging the cuts that danced across his knuckles. He knew Mike would notice them without much trouble – either them or the blood that had seeped onto his cuffs. Well either way, he had some apologizing to do – not that he liked entertaining the idea of apologizing for what he did to Trevor. Splashing some water onto his face, he took a deep breath and palmed away the excess droplets from his jaw. This was going to be a long evening…

When he finally returned to Mike's room, he found him sat up in bed, various magazines and newspapers carpeting the duvet like a paper quilt.

"Doing some homework?" Looking up as if startled, when Mike realized who it was his expression turned from surprised to unimpressed, and soon his attention was back on the magazine in front of him. That was expected…approaching the bed, Harvey went to pull the article away from his lap, though Mike quickly pulled it back.

"I'm trying to read…"

"On what? The latest fall fashion of 2012 compared to-"

"It's for my memory." The sharpness of Mikes tone prompted Harvey to clear the space where he'd been sat earlier that day.

"You've only been out of surgery a few hours – your memory won't come back straight away-"

"Can't hurt to practice." This time when Harvey closed the magazine, Mike didn't bother trying to stop him. Instead he just looked out of the window, trying his best – and failing miserably –to be mad.

"…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left earlier." Harvey had reached out to turn Mikes face back towards him, but the wounds didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm not pissed that you left, I'm not thirteen. I'm just mad that- what happened to your hands?"

"Nothing, I'm fine-"

"Yeah, I see that – what did you do?" Harvey just glanced down briefly, answering Mikes question regardless of the fact he never needed to ask it in the first place.

"…You shouldn't have gone down to his level"

"I had to do something-"

"No, you didn't." Finally Harvey looked up, and saw Mike looking straight back at him, eyes alight with a disappointed kind of anger.

"I didn't need you to run to my defence, Harvey. What if he reports you?"

"He won't"

"How do you know?"

"Because I know. Mike, I'm sorry – but I don't regret what I did."

"You should. You're better than that, better than him."

"I'm glad you noticed…" Testing the waters with a tentative smirk, eventually Mike lost the angry look. As annoying as it was, Harvey's smile was contagious. He was still annoyed, but as he pulled one of his hands into his lap, upon closer inspection the wounds really did look sore. Being as gentle as he could, he brought the hand up and folded the fingers in, lightly kissing his knuckles.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"No…it means you need to get your hands looked at…" Shifting a little closer, Harvey's smile softened as he pressed his forehead to Mikes.

"What do you want me to do to make it up to you?" After a minute of consideration and teasing kisses, Mike smirked.

"You can make up for not being here when I woke up"

"What did you have in mind exactly?"

"Not sure yet…get rid of the magazines, and we'll talk."


End file.
